


if the moment of glory is over before it’s begun

by klainelynch



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Gen, Introspection, Light Angst, POV Iroh (Avatar), POV Zuko (Avatar), Pre-Canon, but they can try over Pai Sho, ficlet about just how much Iroh lost at Ba Sing Se, inspired by Legacy of the Fire Nation, now with bonus Zuko POV in chapter two, they’ve both lost so much and they don’t do feelings in their family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25249645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klainelynch/pseuds/klainelynch
Summary: Iroh knows that Ozai is the new Fire Lord, but he doesn’tknowwhat that means until he actually returns home. Zuko doesn’t understand why no one else seems to care that Uncle is back. Both are starting to grasp the fact that they only have each other.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 171





	1. Chapter 1

Iroh supposed it was lucky that he had stopped at a port in the colonies before returning to Caldera City. When the captain brought him the news about his father _(and his brother, and his sister-in-law, would it ever end?)_ , he was able to shut himself in his room for the rest of the evening, and return to the ship's deck the next morning with renewed conviction for his promise he had made to the spirits.

He wasn't thinking about what it meant that the new Fire Lord hadn't sent any word to him about these changes. Really.

“We’re due to land by evening, General Iroh,” the captain said, and he didn’t hesitate in using that title even as its recipient wasn’t sure if it applied any more.

...

At the height of the siege, Iroh imagined his triumphant return to the capital. Images of parades, cheering women, and celebratory feasts sustained him. His father had already been proud of him, but he would be even more so now. No one had ever conquered Ba Sing Se; Iroh supposed that no one ever would. His childhood vision had told him that _he_ would be the one to do it, but the vision had been wrong.

There were no parades.

The only people who greeted Iroh and his crew were the servants who grabbed the luggage and supplies without saying a word to him. He didn't recognize a single one of them.

...

The palace was quiet. He was used to people rushing around, seemingly eager to serve their fire lord. Iroh tried to meet the eyes of the servants, of anyone, but no one gave him the opportunity. They moved like being noticed would ensure a death sentence. The servant carrying two of Iroh’s personal bags stayed five feet behind him at all times, and the distance smothered him more than if she had been five inches away.

"Uncle!"

Iroh barely had time to turn around before Zuko was barreling into him from around the corner. He returned the hug with almost as much enthusiasm as his young nephew, who seemed to have grown half a foot since he'd last seen him.

“Zuko, it’s so good to see you,” Iroh said, and it felt nice to see his own smile mirrored in his nephew’s face. No one knew how to act around him since Lu Ten, so they just acted solemn. Iroh hadn’t seen someone smile in weeks, and he hadn’t realized how much that hurt until this very moment.

“You too, Uncle. The palace isn’t the same without you,” he said. “Come on! I want to show you the latest firebending form I’ve been working on. You won’t believe how much better I’ve gotten since you’ve been gone!”

Iroh smiled. “Yes, I would love to see it. I’ll just drop my things off in my room, and then we can make our way to the courtyard.”

"Let me show you to your room, Your Highness. It's just down this hallway," the servant said.

Iroh looked at her quizzically. “I’ve been gone for awhile, but I still remember the layout of this place.” He started walking towards his room, but stopped when he realized that the woman hadn’t moved.

She bowed her head low, but Iroh saw the fear before she did so. “Apologies, but Fire Lord Ozai insisted that those rooms are reserved for the Crown Prince, and that is now Prince Zuko.”

Iroh glanced at Zuko, who looked incredibly uncomfortable. His hands were shoved under his arms, and he also wouldn't meet Iroh's eyes.

"I didn't want your rooms," he said. "But Father said it wouldn't be fitting for my station to sleep in the same bed anymore. I'm sorry."

Taking a deep breath, Iroh forced a smile on his face. "It is alright, Prince Zuko. There is nothing to apologize for— your father is right, after all. I am no longer the Crown Prince, so I do not need such luxuries."

"Oh, okay," Zuko said, and he sounded surprised, as if he expected Iroh to be upset with him. Iroh tucked that thought away. He would deal with it later.

Iroh turned to the servant and asked, "What is your name?"

"Anzu, Your Highness," she said, lifting her eyes from the floor to somewhere around his knees.

"Well, Anzu, please show me to my new rooms so that I may get settled in, and then set up a Pai Sho board for tonight so I can see whether or not I can still kick my nephew's butt." Her mouth dropped a little at the informality of that last request, but Zuko grinned wildly, so it was worth it.

…

His new rooms were almost identical to his old. It was to be expected— every bedroom in this place had the same basic layout, either to confuse assassins or because the original architects lacked imagination and personality. Anzu set his few bags in the closet, and then left to fetch the board. 

As soon as she was gone, Iroh wished he wasn't alone. This room _wasn't_ the same— it only looked that way. The bed was made, but Iroh would have to replace the sheets with the thread count that he preferred. The dressers were bare; he would have to set out his portraits and other knick knacks himself. The bookcase was simply that, and did not hide a secret passage that could be used in case of emergencies. Iroh didn’t need such precautions when two children were now ahead of him in the line of succession.

The room could have belonged to anyone. It didn’t belong to Iroh. It served as a reminder of everything he had lost, and Iroh knew that Ozai had meant it as such.

_Don't think about these things. Remember what the spirits told you. This is an opportunity for growth, a chance to do good in this world. Don't forget._

If only it were that easy. Iroh didn't want to care so much about something as trivial as a bedroom, but he was learning to be honest with himself these days. 

_It mattered._

It mattered for the same reason as the hesitation in Zuko's voice, as the fear in the servant's eyes, as the lack of any sort of notice before Iroh arrived at the palace. He would have walked in the front doors, expecting to be Fire Lord, if he hadn't heard otherwise. Ozai had stolen that from him, and he wasn’t losing any time in making his own mark on this palace and their nation. It mattered because Iroh was no longer the man he once was.

Iroh was a failure.

He had never been one of those before.

Losing the right to rule was the least of his losses from these last few weeks, but it was still a loss.

On his way back from the Spirit World, before he found the crew to take him home, he had worked out a plan for his reign. He would finish this war quickly, and then he would work to make things right with the other nations. The Fire Nation had much to offer them, but they had gone about it all wrong.

But none of that mattered now. Fire Lord Ozai was never supposed to exist, but he was here now.

Iroh wasn't sure what his place was now. His brother had probably been disappointed that Iroh hadn't died alongside his son to make a clean end to his line; Iroh was okay being a disappointment there.

A quiet knock on his door pulled Iroh from his thoughts. Zuko held the Pai Sho board in his hands.

"I passed by that servant in the hallway, and thought I'd just bring it myself," he said. "I can show you my katas later. Do you want to play Pai Sho right now?"

So many things had changed, but Zuko’s sweet nature had not. "Yes, Prince Zuko, I would love that."

They played for some time without much conversation between them. Iroh was tired from his journey, and Zuko seemed more shy than when Iroh had left him. But the silence was not uncomfortable, and Iroh was thankful for the company.

It was after Iroh beat him for the second time and Zuko agreed to a third game that he said, "I'm sorry about Lu Ten, Uncle."

Iroh closed his eyes just in time to stop the burning from going any further. It hadn't gotten any easier, and he didn't think it would for a long time. He heard the chair scoot, and opened his eyes again to see Zuko halfway across the room.

"I didn't mean to upset you, I can go, I'm sorry," he said quickly.

Shaking his head, Iroh motioned Zuko to sit back down. "Thank you for your kind words, nephew. I'm still very sad about it, but your presence here helps me out. That, and beating you twice!" His joke wasn’t filled with the same kind of warmth that it might have once contained, but it was enough to make Zuko smile, and today, that would have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a drabble in a collection of Iroh & Zuko drabbles that I’m working on, but the story refused to be contained to 100 words, so this happened instead.
> 
> Title is a lyric from Rush’s “[Bravado](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pUSpBAmSMb8).” If you love Iroh and have four minutes to spare, you really should listen to it and tell me which other lyrics you would have put as the title, because it could have been the entire song tbh
> 
> Comments are always appreciated :)
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [klainelynch](https://klainelynch.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

"Iroh has lost his son. Your cousin, Lu Ten, did not survive the battle."

His mom looked like she was about to cry, but Zuko was confused. Her words didn’t make any sense. Uncle Iroh didn't _lose_. He was the Dragon of the West, the fiercest warrior in the world, and heroes didn’t lose great battles. They definitely didn’t lose their son, Zuko’s only cousin, halfway across the world.

“But he was supposed to teach me how to fight with his dual swords. He _promised_ , right before he left. Lu Ten wouldn’t lie to me. He wouldn’t.”

"Oh, my love," his mom said as she reached her arms around him, and Zuko realized that he had tears in his eyes. He inhaled a shaky breath and exhaled a sob.

...

A week later, there was no one left to hold Zuko as he cried.

...

When he overheard from the servants that Uncle Iroh was back in the palace, Zuko was upset. Why hadn't anyone told him that Uncle was home? Weren't you supposed to celebrate war heroes when they came back from battle? It didn't seem right to Zuko that General Iroh was practically sneaking in the back door after serving his nation for the last two years.

All of his anger fell away the moment he turned the corner and saw his uncle. He looked tired, and like he had lost a lot of weight in a very short amount of time, but it was still him. Without even realizing that he was doing it, Zuko began to run towards him, because the idea of not hugging him was becoming more unbearable with every passing second.

It was as if no time at all had passed between them. Zuko was suddenly nine years old, asking to put on a display of the katas he was most proud of, and no one in their family was gone. Uncle’s embrace meant warmth, safety.

He should have known better than to assume that the moment would last. The servant offered to show Uncle to his new room, and Zuko felt the heat rush to his face. He had taken Uncle’s room like the Earth Kingdom had taken Uncle’s son. It hadn’t been his choice or even his idea, but he had still done it.

...

Zuko saw Anzu with the Pai Sho set in her arms. It was one of the larger ones, and between the circular board and metal box with hundreds of marble tiles, she looked like she was about to drop everything. A mistake like that would get her in a lot of trouble now that his father was in charge.

"I can help you take that to Uncle."

She jumped a bit, and Zuko felt bad for startling her. He knew that she hadn't worked at the palace for very long, and she always seemed so nervous. He hadn’t even known her name before Uncle had asked her for it.

"Pardon, Your Highness, it's no trouble at—" Anzu started, but the box started to slip from under her arm as she said it, and Zuko barely managed to catch it before it could clang to the tile floor.

"I insist," he said, and put the box under his own arm.

She bowed and murmured her thanks. 

The walk to Uncle's room wasn't far, but the silence between them was awkward. No one knew what to say to him since his grandfather had died and mom had disappeared. They all acted as if neither of them had ever existed. Zuko hated it. He wasn’t sure what he wanted them to say, but he wanted someone to say _something_.

When they reached Uncle's new room, Zuko wordlessly grabbed the board from Anzu, who bowed again and went back down the same hallway. Zuko took a deep breath before he knocked on the door. He wasn’t sure where this sudden burst of nerves came from until Uncle opened the door. He looked small, much smaller than he had just a few minutes ago in the hallway. The three seconds after Zuko offered to play Pai Sho were the longest of his life. Maybe his uncle didn't actually want to play with him. Maybe he had just said that to be polite, and all he wanted was to be alone right now. No one else wanted to be around him, so why would Uncle Iroh?

If that's how Uncle really felt, he didn't show it. He smiled, and said that he would love to play. Zuko realized he believed him when his stomach unclenched, like his body knew it was safe before his mind did. As Zuko set up the board, Uncle Iroh brewed them a pot of tea, and they began to play.

In their first game, Zuko played the usual aggressive style that he had to use with his history tutor. She insisted that the game was all about decisive action, and that it would prepare him for his time as a military leader. Zuko wasn't sure about that, but he didn't exactly have a say in how his tutors taught their lessons, so he just went with whatever they said.

Uncle crushed him.

Zuko didn't even realize how badly he was playing until the game was almost over; Uncle's style seemed so random that Zuko was sure he was throwing the game to let Zuko win until he realized that the chaos was a screen for half a dozen traps that Zuko couldn’t get out of. Uncle chose one to end him and cleared the board with an apologetic shrug.

The second game went a little better, though it would have been difficult to play worse. This time, Zuko tried to remember what Uncle had taught him about the game. It had been so long ago, well before he had left for Ba Sing Se, but Zuko remembered an emphasis on patience and an insistence that the first available move was almost never the correct one to make. He tried to slow himself down, but it wasn't easy to be patient when every tile that he drew was the exact one that he wanted for his plans. Luck was on his side for once, until it wasn't. He drew a wheel tile when he needed a Rhododendron, and that stroke of misfortune prevented him from taking Uncle's knotweed, which proved to be Zuko's downfall. At least he had lasted much longer that time.

"Would you like to play again, Nephew?"

Zuko looked up from the fresh cup of tea that Uncle had poured him, and was surprised by the look in his eyes. No one looked at Zuko like that, like they genuinely hoped he would stay by their side. Not since his mom had—

Well. 

Uncle was different. He had always known that, but it hadn’t mattered until now. Zuko agreed to a third game, and Uncle’s shoulders sagged in visible relief. Even though he hadn’t planned on saying anything, it seemed like the right moment. Zuko took his chance.

"I'm sorry about Lu Ten, Uncle."

Uncle closed his eyes, and immediately, his stomach dropped. It had been the wrong thing to say. Even if _he_ wanted to talk about his mom to someone, _anyone_ , that didn't mean that _Uncle_ wanted to talk about his son. Stupid, he was _so_ stupid and he had hurt the one person who had shown him more kindness in the last hour than anyone else had in the last two months.

He had to go, had to get out of Uncle’s presence and stop being the screw up that his father always said he was. He tried to get up quietly from the table, but his chair scraped the ground, and the noise hurt his ears as much as his words had clearly hurt Uncle.

"I didn't mean to upset you, I can go, I'm sorry," he said quickly. Zuko would leave, and not speak of this again. That's how things worked in their family, and he had been a fool to disrupt that.

But then Uncle was shaking his head, and saying it was okay, and trying to make a joke. Neither one laughed, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he was trying to make things normal, and show Zuko that he hadn't just messed up everything between them. He returned Uncle's small smile as he returned to his seat.

He still lost the third game. But he came much closer to winning than he ever had, and when they decided not to play a fourth game, Zuko asked Uncle to pour him another cup of tea, and he told him everything that had happened in the two years he had been away. And if Uncle occasionally wiped at his eyes as he listened, Zuko didn’t mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn’t supposed to exist. But I was rereading chapter one, and I realized that I wanted to write what was going on in Zuko’s head when he told Uncle he was sorry about Lu Ten. And then within the hour, the bulk of this chapter appeared. Took a few days for the edits, but that’s par for the course. Thanks to the ATLA Creator’s Corner for encouraging me to post this!
> 
> As always, find me on tumblr at [klainelynch](https://klainelynch.tumblr.com/)


End file.
